


please tell me how moths die.

by faucer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Other, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 13:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faucer/pseuds/faucer





	please tell me how moths die.

“You are not showering.”  
“I can’t.”  
RK900 furrowed his eyebrows, moving from the door jamb he was leaning against and coming closer to your crouched figure. What _exactly_  were you doing? Kneeling just one leg on the ground and peering over your short black haired head he saw a little animal, helplessly trying to escape the tiled floor of the bathroom by squirming up and down the slippery surface.  
“See? I can’t.”  
He turned his head back to you “Are you afraid?” he asked, in a slow, sweet tone. You hummed in response, shaking your head ever so slightly “No, but I can’t get this moth out.” you tried again, with a piece of some kind of rigid paper on your hand, to scoop up this new friend but she really didn’t want to climb onto it. Instead, she sloppily went the other way. You tried again. She touched the cardboard just a little and went away, not feeling secure on such transportation. You growled “It’s dying.” steady came a reply to an unsaid question of yours “No, she’s not.” _She?_ “Yes.” he scanned the situation once more but there was no doubt. You squeezed your lips in a concerned expression “It’s my fault? Did I hesitate in pulling her out of the room?” they were more like sentences orbiting in your head but you said them out loud, yet you didn’t look at him in the eyes. A hand touched your tiny curls and gently ruffled them, he _felt_ sad “If it makes you feel better it’s most likely it has reached the end of its lifespan.” you sighed softly “Maybe she wanted to, at least, die out in the open.” the same hand retreated and lazily fell down on your back, his stare changed towards the moth over again but the android didn’t tell you if it was actually a she or a he “Does it makes a difference?” your shape shrank but you continued watching the fight the insect was putting up “Of course it does. I wouldn’t want to die like this.” a pang caught his thirium pump, the urge to claw where it hurt “You won’t die like this.” hurriedly he found himself to respond. There was a minute of silence “But I will die.” the pang suddenly more strong and then right away feeble. Yes. You were going to die. While he would live on for god knows how long. Without you. Just like this moth. He scrambled for words. Rather, he _knew_ them, he had more than 170,000 words in his dictionary, but now he didn’t even know how to say one. His free hand gripped tightly and he simply hugged you. Both of you stayed this way for a while, him rocking you faintly, breathing hot air onto your head, you, still gazing at the scene of a butterfly’s last moments.  
“Can we set her down on the window?”  
He idly nodded, releasing you from his grasp and gently picking up the animal with his bare palms. He did it so easily, yet it took you five minutes to just muster the courage to merely take a scrap of paper “Do you want me to open it?” “Yes.” was all you could weakly tell, squinting in your eyesight the spot above your skull.  
And so there she was placed. Finally calm, somewhat accepting her fate on an aquamarine square, gently cleaning herself. At any rate there was a lenient breeze. The robot returning in your direction, still indecisive on how to handle this topic, lowered his sturdy frame and placed a tender kiss on your temple, lingering “You’re sad.” maybe he wanted you to smile and reassure him that no, you weren’t sad, just lost in your thoughts, like you always did, but his software knew better. You were definitely sad. Not only could he tell because of your micro-expressions scattered across these oh so gentle features, not only because his most advanced processor examined your serotonin and stress levels with that kiss: one low and the other high, no, he could also _feel._ He _felt_ your sadness. And he _felt_ his too. Was this what humans called _empathy?_ “What will you do when I die?” a low sigh escaped his lips, he didn’t want to think about this subject, he had especially avoided thinking about that for a long time now “I don’t know.” was the first answer not calculated, he was being _sincere_ “I think I’d want you to have a good life even after my death.” you smiley said, looking up to his face, but there was a subtle hint of melancholy in your tone “I don’t think I could.” he locked his eyes into yours “Come on, now. Don’t be so stiff.” a light chuckle on your part “I’m not.” his forehead corrugated “But you will live a lot longer than me. You can’t just – you know, suffer for that much.” your smile a little more comforting now “I can always deactivate myself.” you tilted your tiny head “Why would you? Gifted with an almost immortal body and you want to deactivate, I don’t get it. There are more people apart from me. You should find another lover, other friends – and what about the androids you know? You can much more than what a human can.” RK900 seemed to think about it for a moment, then he glanced away from you, to the floor “I don’t need that much. I just want you.” your body softened at these words and he continued “I’d prefer you to live as long as an android can.” he caressed your hands with his, carrying your knuckles to his soft lips, brushing against them “I wouldn’t want anything else.” you half-closed your lids, smiling “I’d love that too.” the two of you knew that that was impossible but nevertheless the lie persisted in the words you both softly spoke that evening, under the intimacy of a silent bathroom “So, please, let me deactivate myself when the time comes.” you bit your lower lip, how could you say no to this request? He told you with such an uneasy spontaneity, you could not refuse.  
“We’ll see.” you only said, planting a kiss on your tiptoes. He peacefully rubbed the top of your nape and smiled, oh a smile so soft “You need to shower now.” you gestured a ‘yes’ with your face. He left you alone under the pouring lukewarm water.  
  
  
When you went near the mirror, to analyze yourself, still wet like a small chick – with strands of soggy hair sticking to your lineaments – you absentmindedly remembered about the moth. You perched over the window, only to found an unmoving corpse, a still shell. _Dead._


End file.
